


Skyrim Belongs to the Nords!

by Ravxnclaw



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Angst and Feels, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst with a Happy Ending, Common Pairings, F/M, Forsworn, Good Guy Vilkas, Insecurity, Marriage, Married Sex, Mention of Battles, Non-Nord Dragonborn, Nord racism, Racial Tensions, Shameless Smut, Slight Praise Kink If You Squint, Smut, mention of violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-20
Updated: 2016-07-20
Packaged: 2018-07-25 12:45:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7533301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ravxnclaw/pseuds/Ravxnclaw
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Vilkas slips up in battle and leaves his Dunmer wife less than pleased, but can he make it up to her? </p>
<p>((There's VERY little actual violence, literally like mentions of Vilkas/DB battling Forsworn, but I wanted to tag it just to be safe))</p>
            </blockquote>





	Skyrim Belongs to the Nords!

**Author's Note:**

> IT'S BEEN SO LONG SINCE I'VE WRITTEN ANYTHING BUT I RESTARTED ES:V AND NOW I'M FULL OF FEELS I'M NOT SORRY 
> 
>  
> 
> ((As always, I do not own Skyrim, Vilkas, or anything else, nor do I claim ownership or intend to make any money off of this - all rights go to the babes at Bethesda))

Forsworn were swooping down from every nook and cranny, screeching as they descended onto the duo. Vera wasn't afraid, she knew that Vilkas could handle himself well in battle, but she couldn't help sneaking a few glances at him whenever she was given the chance. He was a blur of Skyforge steel and dark hair, her heart light from the sight of her husband as the freshly decapitated Forsworn Ravager fell at her feet. Everything was going fairly normally for another of their cavern dwelling journeys until Vilkas's tongue slipped.  
_"Skyrim belongs to the Nords!"_  
The words cut through her battle-fueled high and for just a moment she froze. A painful silence fell over Red Eagle Ascent as the last Forsworn's life ended upon Vilkas's greatsword, but Vera couldn't summon up any praise for him. She moved swiftly, purposefully sifting through the chest tucked into the shadows and shoving anything of value into her pockets as she forced her brain to focus on anything but his words still lingering between the two. She knew that if she let herself she could easily obsess over it, but she couldn't let herself become distracted while she was surrounded by dozens of Forsworn waiting to slaughter her.  
"Dearest?"  
His voice was soft as his hand rested on her shoulder, only to be roughly shoved off without a word. She wasn't going to deal with it in the moment, not when there was still the promise of Red Eagle's sword waiting for her, as well as an army of Forsworn standing before it for her to take out some aggression on.  
Throwing the door to Red Eagle Redoubt open, she chose to ignore the nervous shuffling of Vilkas's feet behind her. Of course had had to know that she was angry and she was half-tempted to insist that he return home, that she finish the quest on her own, but the rational portion of her brain overruled it. She needed someone to watch her back and, despite her anger, she trusted Vilkas above anyone else. They'd learned how to fight as a pair, hell, she could predict his movements better than her own, so she chose to hold her tongue and keep moving.  
Vera didn't even bother to sneak up on her enemies anymore, simply stalking toward them until they were within reach of her sword. Her attacks became angrier than necessary and with her sword clutched between both hands she drove it into the Looter's back. Above the cracking of bones and rush of blood she could still hear the same words ringing through her mind - _Skyrim belongs to the Nords!_  
Could that possibly be what her husband, the same man who had so lovingly caressed every inch of her clearly Dunmer skin, really think? Was he actually hiding his distaste for her appearance every time they'd made love? Had he been hiding his disgust for her throughout their courtship and even their marriage? Was he really put off by her race?  
She'd already had to face so much racism during her visits to Windhelm and even Riften, she'd thought that Whiterun, her first home in Skyrim, had been her escape. Once she'd found Vilkas she worried that he'd have an issue with her race but he'd overlooked it, never once mentioned it, but could he have held his tongue not due to his lack of concern, but just the opposite? She'd dealt with her abilities long ago when she'd first sent guards flying in every direction with nothing more than a Shout, and it had taken her even longer to accept that someone would love her in spite of her abnormal abilities, never once assuming that someone would court her purely for her power.  
As she swiped down her blade in an attempt to clean it up she remembered the absolute joy that had filled her when _finally_ she had found a Nord man who hadn't called her 'greyskin' or shamed her for her race. He'd accepted her as his Shield-Sister regardless of Jorrvaskr's overwhelmingly Nord history, never once treating her or Athis as if they were lesser than their human Shield-Brothers or Sisters and she loved him for it from the moment she met him, never once questioning his acceptance of her race before he uttered those words.  
-  
The onslaught of Forsworn fell before Vera and Vilkas opted for his bow and a safe distance, recognizing the glint in his wife's eyes. It was something that he only saw right after she'd Shouted, something that made her look entirely different from herself and made her heart race until he could feel it through her thin armor. It changed her from the woman who woke him up with a smile on her face whenever he was snoring too loud and curled up in the same chair in the library; it was absolutely predatory and it frightened him to no end.  
Almost a dozen bodies laid scattered around her, both her armor and her weapon positively dripping when she turned on him. She didn't sheathe her weapon and he tried to hope for what usually came after such a battle; weapons sheathed, armor shed, and allowing the adrenaline to take over, leaving them sweaty and tangled together juts as they'd been on the first night they'd fought together.  
"My love?"  
He smiled halfheartedly as she stalked back toward him, her face impossible to read. The hood was pushed back and her eyes were blazing as they met his, her knuckles white on the hilt of her glowing sword. He quickly rested the bow across his back and took a step toward her, only to be met with her sharp finger jabbing into his chest.  
"Don't you dare call me that."  
Her voice was so sharp that he swore it had physically wounded him. Her brow was pulled together and her usually relaxed mouth was a tight line, the entire face a mask of pure anger. He wasn't sure how to react - had he accidentally hit someone he wasn't meant to during a fight, had he accidentally hit _her?_ Truthfully that was one of his largest reservations when they started fighting together as man and wife, that he wouldn't be paying enough attention and would end up slashing into the same woman who he'd kissed almost every day since they'd met, but through the mess of her armor he couldn't even begin to search for injuries.  
She stomped away again, the legendary sword gripped in one hand and her usual weapon in the other, her footsteps harder than usual as she searched for anything of value. He stood there, dumbfounded for a moment before she whirled around again, her eyes instantly finding his.  
"Not going to say anything?"  
Oh gods, she was absolutely livid.  
"About?"  
Her sarcastic laugh was enough to turn his confusion into anger. He hated the idea of being laughed at by anyone, repulsed by the idea that he'd made himself look ignorant after he'd thrown himself into his academics for so long. He prided himself on his intelligence and by the mocking lilt in her laugh, he could tell that she knew what she was doing to him. She _wanted_ to insult him.  
"Oh, I don't know, about the fact that you're disgusted by me?" She opened her arms up as if showcasing her body for him, but he was at a loss for words.  
"What?"  
"I'm surprised you haven't left me at home to go fight with the blasted Stormcloaks if you really feel that way!"  
" _What_ way?"  
"Skyrim belongs to the Nords."  
Her voice was icy as she threw his words back at him, words that he'd intended to draw a reaction from the anti-Nord Forsworn in front of him, and after he got the reaction he wanted he'd forgotten them. The man's swings had become erratic in his rage and given Vilkas the perfect opportunity that he'd been waiting for to finish off the last of them, but by the time he'd finished she had already moved on.  
"Oh, dearest-"  
"Why'd you marry me if you felt that way?" He could hear the slight waver in her voice as she waved both swords back and forth, looking almost comical. She looked so small, utterly non-threatening to the untrained eye, especially when she was waggling weapons around wildly instead of the calculated slices he'd grown used to seeing. He knew that she was struggling to stay angry instead of letting the hurt break her, she wanted to fight instead of cry but she was about to break. The corner of her mouth was twitching and her arms were shaking, though that may have been from the act of holding two swords in arms used to carrying only one.  
"I love you." He tried to smile as he took another step toward her, wanting to close the distance and take the weapons from her before she hurt herself. Her sarcastic laugh was much less convincing than the last as her posture went slack, arms falling to the side and wide, dark eyes left disbelieving.  
"Do you, or do you love being with _the Dragonborn?_ The damned Nord legend, you must be so disappointed that I was born as an elf and not a Nord like you."  
"I think you're perfect." He reached out and held her face in his hands, smirking to himself at her halfhearted attempt to jerk away.  
"Because I'm the Dragonborn." Her words were flat and he kissed her forehead, allowing his fingers to trace the tips of her pointed ears in a way that had proved to relax her.  
"I love you." He repeated the words, not wanting to fight her but wanting to get his point across. His guilt was probably written across his face and she was making an effort to ignore it, her rage toward him rolling off of her in waves.  
"Oh, so you love me in spite of my heritage? Sorry to disappoint."  
"Do you honestly believe that I wish you were different?"  
"I thought you didn't care." She muttered, resting her forehead against his chest. Even after months of marriage and almost a year of knowing her he still marveled at how small she was, fitting so well against him and he loved it. No Nord woman would be able to curl into him and disappear the same way that she did, able to tuck her body into his and become engulfed by his arms.  
"If you weren't so small, I wouldn't even be able to pretend that I can wrap you up and protect you." He murmured, his hands running along her shoulders and down her arms until he was able to take the weapons from her grasp. "Not that you need it, but it's good for the ego to pretend."  
Nerves shot through him as her arms hesitated before wrapping around him, clearly still upset by his words. He knew how hard it had been for her to trust him after growing up in the Grey Quarter surrounded by her own kind and with the Nords as her enemy, but he wasn't going to give up. It was moments like those that reminded him that the fearsome Dragonborn, Alduin's Doom, the woman who had walked through Sovngarde and made it out alive, was still the same girl who'd grown up with stories of the Shouting Nord heroes who could harness the power of the Thu'um and took a vow of silence once she learned the truth of her identity.  
"Love you." She muttered into his armor, wiping away at the grime that had taken up residence there. "You Nord Supremacist."  
"Love you," he tilted her chin up, pressing a kiss to her blessedly relaxed mouth, "you beautiful mer."  
He knew she was tired and needed a rest, but she still hadn't quite forgiven him and insisted on walking on her own. Usually after a fight he ended up carrying himself and a good portion of her weight on the entire walk home but she held herself stiff, giving him just the barest of affections as they headed back in the direction of civilization.  
"Are you still mad?" He asked quietly, afraid of the answer but needing to know. He regretted not thinking of his wife while he was trying to taunt the Forsworn, but he didn't regret the opportunity it had given him to clear out the cavern before one of them could land a hit on her. He watched her profile as he brow knitted together once again and she chewed on her lip, and he was lost in the look of her. Her small nose wrinkled slightly as she searched for an answer and he resisted the urge to reach out and smooth her hair, instead choosing to allow her to find out how tangled it had become on her own.  
"No." She finally answered, slipping a thin arm around his waist as she banished his anxiety. Standing on her toes she grinned, pressing a kiss to the side of his face as best as she could, considering her shorter stature. "Skyrim might not belong to the Nords, but maybe you could show me how _I_ belong to a certain Nord."  
With a smirk he grabbed her, relieved to finally be assured that she wasn't going to aim the Thu'um on him. He never thought that she would use the ancient power on him on purpose, but when any of her emotions got out of control he'd noticed a signature rumbling deep within the foundations of their home and feared that she would get out of control.  
He pressed a sloppy kiss to her mouth, ignoring the smattering of drying blood and sweat that covered the majority of her face and neck. Her lips were unbelievably soft and he ran his hands down her front, loosening each hidden buckle with practiced fingers along his way. He could feel her apprehension in the way her muscles remained taunt as he pried the armor away from her front, arousal taking hold of him as her beautiful dark skin was exposed to him. It seemed grey in the green-tinted light from the overhead stars as he knelt down in front of her, running his lips across her stomach and taking in every inch of her.  
He pulled her down, guiding her to rest her back against the grass and allowing him a gracious view of the entirety of her body, her chest and stomach bare in the cool breeze of early Sun's Dusk and her legs annoyingly still garbed in leather armor. He sat back, letting his eyes sweep across her as he slowly untied her breeches, the cuirass laying limp and practically useless at her sides. His fingers traced along each of the scars that interrupted the expanse of dark skin, taking special care to follow the twisted, pale gash that had once torn her side open. He remembered the horror that had swept through him when she'd returned home, tales of Sovngarde and Kodlak on her lips as her hand remained firmly holding her side against the flow of blood and he swore his heart had broken.  
"Gods, you're beautiful." He murmured as he dipped down, his muscles tightening harshly as he was exposed to the cool air of early Sun's Dusk. Letting the armor fall to his side he climbed on top of her, kissing her before she could argue. He knew that it was coming, that all of her self-doubt was stemming from the discrimination that she'd faced at the hands of his fellow Nords. He hadn't quite known how bad it was until he'd accompanied her on one of her frequent trips to Windhelm and witnessed the owner of the Candlehearth Inn suggesting that she move along to the Grey Quarter or the way she shook whenever Rolff staggered past her, spilling ale from his bottle and racist slurs from his mouth. He knew how hard it was for Nords to accept that the subject of their legend had been born as a dark elf, but he'd never questioned it. He knew just how powerful she was and never thought to belittle it simply because she wasn't a Nord woman.  
"Beautiful for an elf, right?" Her voice was unsure and he ran his lips along the ridges of her pointed ears, pulling a low groan from her. He grinned and thrust his hips against hers, feeling the Band of Matrimony digging into the finger of his skin as he held himself above her, but refused to take it off.  
"Beautiful for a woman."  
She wrapped her legs around his waist and drew him in, not allowing him a chance to brace himself before he sunk into her. She was warm and slick and so perfect that he felt like his eyes were going to roll straight back into his head. She whimpered and dug her heels into his back, hissing slightly at the sudden intrusion and he kissed down her neck, intent on making her see just how gorgeous she really was.  
Rolling his hips once he held himself back, reveling in the wanton moan it pulled from her. He stroked along her side with soft fingers, feeling her muscles twitch as he made his way up her side and down her arm, feeling every scar, old and new, until he finally twisted his fingers with hers.  
"The most beautiful Dragonborn there ever has been." He murmured the words into her neck as he thrust into her harshly, picking up his rhythm. It was torture to have to hold back but he could see the sweat gathering on her brow in frustration, the way she was growing closer to release so slowly and her free hand buried itself in his hair. She brought his lips up to hers and he was met with a bruising kiss, swallowing one of he to meet hers.  
"Hush." She mumbled against his mouth and he grinned, his confidence growing with each of her moans.  
"I love you so much, my gorgeous Dragon." He grinned at the sight of her, back arching up to press her body against his and the pleased smirk on her face, a thin layer of sweat beginning to gather in the crevice of her collarbones and cause her legs to stick to his sides. "The most beautiful woman I've ever seen, elf or otherwise."  
He could tell that she was close, her fists gripping his hand and his hair harshly and he snapped his hips, picking up his pace until finally she tightened around him, letting loose a Shout that shook the ground around him. He watched in awe as she came, eyes squeezed shut and the wind rushing from the force of her Shout, her fingers digging into his back as her body curled around his, pushing him over the edge.  
Collapsing onto his wife he could feel the wind slowing around them and he tightened his grip on her hand, ignoring the stickiness of sweat between their palms. He reveled in the quiet of his mind, no longer suffering from the incessant growls of the wolf that had plagued so many of his years. He felt genuinely tired as he rested his head on her chest, listening to the erratic beating of her heart from both the orgasm and her Shout. Pressing kisses to the top of his head she combed her fingers through his hair, sneakily trying to rid it of the tangles that she had created by twisting it into her fist only moments ago.  
"I love you." He whispered, wishing that there was some way to prove to her just how much he meant it. He loved the way that she looked whether she was fighting a horde of draugr or relaxing on their day off, it didn't matter. He loved her in every situation and hadn't ever thought of her as an elf or even the Dragonborn, she was simply his wife. "Skyrim may not belong to the Nords, but you surely belong with me."

**Author's Note:**

> WHOOPS I'M BACK TO WRITING LOOK OUT I'VE BEEN LOOKING INTO RARE PAIRINGS/RARE CHARACTERS THAT DON'T HAVE MANY FICS WRITTEN ABOUT THEM IF YOU HAVE ANYTHING YOU'D LIKE TO SEE LET ME KNOW


End file.
